On the following morning War–Eagle rose an hour before daybreak, and led his party to the spot where the lodges of their kindred had so lately stood, and where they had anticipated a reception of honour and triumph. The chief strode forward across the desolate scene, seemingly insensible to its horrors; faithful to his determination, all the energies of his nature were concentrated in the burning thirst for revenge, which expelled, for the time, every other feeling from his breast. The Delaware warriors, observant of the stern demeanour of their leader, followed him in gloomy silence; and although each shuddered as he passed the well–known spot where, only a few days before, an anxious wife had prepared his food, and merry children had prattled round his knee, not a groan nor a complaint was uttered; but every bosom throbbed under the expectation of a vengeance so terrible, that it should be remembered by the Osages to the latest hour of their existence as a tribe. War–Eagle moved directly forward to the place where the lodge of Tamenund and the tent of the Prairie–bird had been pitched. As they approached it Reginald felt his heart faint within him, and the colour fled from his cheek and lip. Baptiste, taking his master’s hand, said to him, in a tone of voice the habitual roughness of which was softened by genuine sympathy, “Master Reginald, remember where you are; the eyes of the Lenapé are upon the adopted brother of their chief; they have lost fathers, brothers, wives, and children; see how they bear their loss; let them not think Netis less brave than themselves.” “Thank you, thank you, honest Baptiste,” said the unhappy young man, wringing the woodman’s horny hand; “I will neither disgrace my own, nor my adopted name; but who among them can compare his loss with mine! so young, so fair, so gentle, my own affianced bride; pledged to me under the eye of Heaven, and now in the hands of that fierce and merciless villain.” At this moment a cry of exultation burst from the lips of War–Eagle, as his eye fell upon the wand and slips of bark left by Wingenund. One by one the chief examined them, and deciphering their meaning with rapid and unerring sagacity, communicated to his friend that the youth was still alive and free; that Olitipa, though a prisoner, was well, and that a fine trail was open for them to follow. “Let us start upon it this instant,” cried Reginald, with the re–awakened impetuosity of his nature. “War–Eagle must take much counsel with himself,” replied the chief, gravely. “The ancient men of the Lenapé are asleep, their bones are uncovered; War–Eagle must not forget them; but,” he added, while a terrible fire shot from his dark eye, “if the Great Spirit grants him life, he will bring Netis within reach of Mahéga before this young moon’s horn becomes a circle.”